Remembrance Day
by Quicksilver Ink
Summary: [Suikoden III, about 300 years postgame] The descendants of Louis Keeferson have different ideas of how to honor their idols and heroes. Warning: Focused on original characters.


"Borry!" The girl's voice rang out clearly over the bustle of the crowd, aided by the marble walls and arched ceiling of the chapel.

Borus Keeferson grimaced. He liked his cousin Heidi well enough, but did she have to use his baby-name, and at the top of her lungs like that? He was thirteen already. Worse yet, in the Heroes' Chapel on Remembrance Day?

"Hello, Heidi!" Nils called, standing up in the pew and waving. His older brother was oblivious to social embarrassments, and didn't care if everyone stared at them. Or if the old ladies lectured him after the service. "Come sit with us!"

It took Heidi some time to fight through the crowd – Remembrance Day tended to bring the thrice-a-year churchgoers in, as well as hordes of pilgrims who generally stayed in their hometowns to harvest or plant at the other two major holidays. It was the height of summer and the attendant festival that brought in the farmers from the more rural areas.

Remembrance Day had brought another type of pilgrim this year, for the woman following Heidi was a stranger to Borus. There was no sign of Aunt Jenny, or Uncle Nathan for that matter- just a graceful woman in pale blue monastic robes. Borus frowned, wondering who she was. His mother had mentioned something about Heidi's family having an important guest… well, the old ladies weren't going to be chastising Nils after the service, not with the nun present. He just hoped she didn't take over for them.

"Borry! Nils! It's so good to see you!" Heidi said immediately, hugging them both enthusiastically. The ribbons on her white dress were already coming undone. "Mama wasn't feeling too well today, so she and Papa stayed home, and Sister Anna said she'd come with me instead. Where are Auntie and Uncle Dirk? Oh, are they evening services instead again this year? That's too bad, I wanted-"

The nun put a hand on Heidi's shoulder, curbing the flow of chatter. "Heidi, would you care to introduce me to these two young men?"

"Oh. Right. Ahem." Heidi drew herself up stiffly and turned to the woman in blue. "Sister Anna, I present to you my cousins Nils and Borus Keeferson," she said importantly. "Nils and Borry, this is Sister Anna, of the Order of the Silver Maiden."

Borus extended his hand automatically, before remembering that monks and nuns did not shake hands. Nils simply bowed in greeting, and Borus copied him hastily.

"It's a pleasure to see you again, Sister Anna," Nils said easily, after she'd serenely returned their bows. "It appears you've kept well."

Sister Anna grinned, and her hood slipped slightly; underneath Borus caught a glimpse of muddy brown hair before she resettled it. There was real personality in her face, more lively than he'd expect in someone with such serene deportment, more wry and friendly than he'd thought a nun would be. In his experience, the extremely devout tended to be stern, stuffy, and as energetic as oatmeal. "From what Heidi has told me, you've done well, too. I saw one of your plays on the board at the Warf Street Theatre."

Nils's grin broadened, as it always did when someone mentioned his work, but his face reddened. "You did? I didn't realize… they haven't opened yet, you see," the young man said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "It's supposed to open tonight, but sometimes it's hard for me to believe they're really going to go through with that one. It's a bit… controversial."

"It's not that bad," Heidi said hurriedly. "It's historical. About the Heroes." She elbowed Borus.

"Oh, yeah. Heidi's right," he added awkwardly. He hadn't read this one, but as a rule Nils's plays were dead boring. They were about historical heroes, so they ought to have been exciting, full of swordfights and honor and betrayals and chivalry. Plays like that ought to have villains who were obviously bad, so you could cheer when the heroes defeated them.

What they actually were full of was the people who were supposed to be heroes doing humdrum, ordinary, and downright boring things. Or even villainous things, which was worse. Borus _hated _Nils's play about his namesake, Borus Redrum.

Sister Anna turned to Borus, adjusting her hood so that her hair was covered once more. Her eyes looked dark, shaded by the hood. "It's good to see you again, too, Borus."

Borus shoved his hands in his pockets to hide his unease. "What? I mean, I'm sorry, Sister, I don't remember ever seeing you before."

This earned him a half-hearted head-knuckling from Nils. "Of course not. You were three."

Borus ducked his brother's fist, scowling as Heidi giggled. "Oh."

"Your brother took you to the Heroes' Graves while I was visiting," Sister Anna said. "I'd been paying my respects to them as well."

"Six bouquets' worth of respects, yet none for the empty grave of Saint Chris," Nils responded.

Nils made it sound like a quotation, and it took Borus a moment to realize his brother was referring to what had actually happened. He blinked. "Shouldn't you be giving more flowers to Saint Chris than to any of the others? She's a saint and, well…" he gestured at her robes.

His brother smiled. "I asked her that question then, myself."

"I've already dedicated my live in service to Saint Chris's honor. Isn't that enough for her?" Sister Anna asked with a grin. She didn't seem offended by his question, although Borus realized with a cringe that he'd been impertinent. "And as your brother points out, she's not actually buried there."

Heidi gave a little gasp. "Six bouquets? Is that where you got the idea for _The Six Flowers_, Nils? The one where Saint Chris comes back to earth and puts flowers at the graves of her friends?"

Sister Anna looked startled, and Nils reddened. "I, um, got the idea from your visit. I'm sorry if it's, er…"

"Blasphemous?" Heidi said, eyes shining in scandalized delight. "_Nils_!"

"Taking liberties?" Sister Anna supplied, apparently recovered. "I don't mind." She continued thoughtfully, "And I don't think Saint Chris would be offended, either. From what we know of her personality, she wasn't really a romantic soul. But I still think it's something she might do." She smiled, her thoughtful look fading. "It's why I was there, that time, after all. Since she couldn't be."

The background noise of people shuffling about the chapel died down; the service was about to start. Heidi and Sister Anna seated themselves next to Nils. Borus hastily sat down himself on his brother's other side.

"It's sad that she's not buried with the other Heroes," Heidi mused quietly. "It must be lonely to be buried all alone, so far away from her friends."

Borus could barely hear her. If the nun responded, she was even quieter than his cousin had been, and a moment later the priest's opening remarks echoed sonorously through the chapel, putting an end to those last whispered conversations that hissed here and there in the congregation.

Borus didn't really attend the priest's words. They wouldn't be any different from last years', and they'd get said again next year. As far as Borus was concerned, the entirety of the ceremony was important only in setting the mood for the Heroes' Invocation.

As solemnity wove its spell slowly through the congregation, Borus let his eyes wander the chapel decorations until they came to rest on the statue of his namesake.

Borus Redrum's stone manifestation was a stern, strong-looking figure. His chiseled face was serious over the beard, and his eyes cast a vigilant gaze across the chapel, seeming to penetrate the darkness behind the alter. The hero's sword was free of its sheath, in what Nils had told him was supposed to be the "guard" position. Borus thought that it looked more like the statue was just about to offer the sword, hilt first, to who or whatever he awaited on the other end of the chapel. So on the verge of movement was the statue that Borus imagined if he ever came into the chapel alone, and stood very quietly in the shadows for long enough, the gray stone would come to life and complete its action. Perhaps if he stood in the darkness behind the altar, the sword would be bestowed on him, naming him protector of Zexen and heralding some great destiny…

Nils shook as he suppressed a cough, drawing Borus out of his daydream. Hastily he drew his gaze back to the front of the room, wondering how far the service had progressed. The darkness surprised him; they hadn't lit the candles yet. Things were certainly going slowly this year.

He resumed his perusal of the chapel's statuary. Opposite Borus Redrum stood Percival Fraulein, carved out of limestone and twice life-size. His sword was sheathed, because he'd died of old age rather than in battle or of wounds, but his hand hovered over the hilt. His face was smooth and beardless, and his gaze, too, was turned watchfully towards the nave. The two men were said to have been best friends in life, drinking, guarding, and fighting as a pair; in effigy they shared a final, unending vigil.

He'd have to turn all the way around to see the other statues, but Borus knew who they were all the same. Leo Gallen, a giant man bearing a war-ax and a proud expression, stood opposite the Elf Roland. Roland's bow was unstrung, and of all the statues he was the only one that you didn't expect to breathe, blink, or shift his weight slightly. Their father, an artist in his own right, had once said that deadness was a mark of an inferior sculptor. This had been followed by a stream of jargon as he unintelligibly pointed out other signs of poor workmanship. Borus found that boring; it was more interesting to think that Roland was so still because he'd trained as a woodland hunter.

At the rear entrance to the chapel were a handsomely carved Louis Keeferson, his own ancestor, and the grim-looking Salome Harras. Louis Keeferson's face was bright and fully of personality, and he was turned expectantly towards the door. His grim companion also faced the door, but unlike Louis he seemed to await bad news.

There were no sculptures of Saint Chris. Devotional works of the Goddess that had been created before the Unification were still allowed, but the Harmonian church had long forbidden portrayal of its saints and divinities – with the exception of His Holiness the Eternal Emperor. Borus wondered absently why no one had painted any portraits of Saint Chris while she'd been alive. Did they realize she was a saint back then, or was it just that no one had ever bothered?

"Now we reach the heights of summer," intoned the priest, and Borus's attention snapped to the front of the chapel. This was _the_ reason for going to services.

There was the sudden, pure tone of ringing metal. It had almost faded when it was repeated, and then the priest spoke again. "We honor the dead this season. We honor their memories and their lives, father, mother, sister, brother, son and daughter.

"But we would not be here to honor them if not for others. Soldiers of Zexen have shed their blood so that we may be here on this day. And we honor them.

"We honor Saint Chris and the Heroes, once mortal soldiers themselves. But they were beyond the mark of most mortals, so we honor them beyond most mortals, second only to the Goddess and Her Consort, who gather all mortals to their breast when our time on this Earth has ended."

The regular strike of metal on metal continued, more quietly, but never changing tempo or missing a beat.

"Roland the Silent. Your arrows flew straight and true, striking their mark as you defended your adopted country. Never did your sharp eyes fail to see rightly: safety or peril, friend or foe. Fire once more an arrow through the future, parting the mists of uncertainty and guiding us safely in all our days.

"Leo Gallen. You stood like a wall of iron in defense of Zexen and Saint Chris. Never did you show fear, accept failure, or have cause to regret. Be once more a wall for us, sheltering us from fear and regret in all our days.

"Louis Keeferson. Throughout the darkness of war in the days you lived, you brought laughter and light to those around you. Never did you lose sight of hope. Be once more a light for us, giving us hope and laughter in all our days."

The ring of metal was joined by a low chorus of voices holding a single, sustained note.

"Salome Harras. Like a father you guided our Lady Saint Chris and our country with words of wisdom and insight. Never once did you let your heart distract your sharp mind from its purpose. Speak to us once more, that we may stay on the path of wisdom in all our days."

The chorus split, chords rising and falling with the ring of metal. High above this, the sharp, icy pitch of bells picked out a slow, tinkling melody.

"Percival Fraulein. Swordsman of Gale you were called in your day, your sword as swift as the wind, to strike and to defend. Never were you too slow, too late, to act or to speak. Be once more a gale for us, stirring us to feeling and judicious action in all our days.

"Borus Redrum. Swordsman of Rage you were called in your day, your righteous anger a terrible thing to behold. Never did you strike in blind anger, never did you shed the blood of those not soldiers. Be once more the flame of righteous fury, so we may recognize and reject evil and sin in all our days."

The candelabra all around the altar blazed then, a hundred bright Lightning bulbs flooding the nave with blinding light and illuminating the final, eternally unfinished statue that graced the chapel. It was little more than the suggestion of a figure, arms outstretched. The voices rose, in pitch and volume and intensity, but changed chords only with the continuing percussion of the ringing metal. The priest turned around then, facing the blank-figured statue that represented the Goddess in her incarnation as the Maiden Loa.

"Saint Chris Lightfellow. The Silver Maiden you were called in your day. A mortal woman, but a saint with Her hand upon you. Never did you shed innocent blood nor fail to defend those who depended on you. Protect us and defend us from harm in all our days."

The chorus sustained a final note, then fell, the descant and ring of metal going silent once more. Immediately the candelabra died as well, plunging them all into what seemed like solid darkness in contrast. This impressive feat was accomplished, Borus dimly recalled, by the cutting of the connection to the Chapel's Lightning Rune.

"Bless you, Saint Chris. Bless you, Heroes. We honor you on this day." The priest slowly turned to face the assembled worshippers once more. "May you all go with the Goddess."

"I always love the music on this day," Heidi said happily, as everyone was getting to their feet. "Oh! Borus and Nils, Mama has invited your family to tea today, right after the ceremony. I would have said earlier, but I forgot." She looked up shyly at Sister Anna, who was brushing at the skirts of her robe. "I need to learn to remember things like this better, don't I."

Sister Anna's face was serene again, betraying little of her earlier personality. "Yes, Heidi, I think that's something you need to work on. Please stand up, your ribbons will need retying."

"They'll come undone again," the girl replied. But to Borus's surprise, his cousin stood and let the nun set her ribbons to rights. "Thank you. Will you come to tea, Borry, Nils?"

"Of course," Nils replied. "Shall we go together? Sister Anna?"

The nun smiled briefly at the young man, then turned back to Heidi. "I ought to greet the priest properly before we return to your household. You needn't come with me, any of you; I'll meet you at the door."

"You'll never guess why Sister Anna's come to visit us," Heidi said after the sister took her leave.

"All right, then, if we won't guess, tell us," Nils said easily.

Heidi folded her arms. "At least _try_."

"Portents and omens surrounding your soon-to-be sibling need interpreting? A ghost in the attic needs banishing? You're possessed by an evil spirit of untidiness and need to be exorcised?" Nils paused dramatically. "I know! You've found some lost relic of Saint Chris, and she's come to recover it?"

"I'm going to the convent school," Heidi burst out, smiling widely. A few of the people trickling past them frowned or cleared their throats disapprovingly at her loudness, but she didn't seem to notice. "The one the Order of the Silver Maiden has in Crystal Valley! I applied in the spring, and Sister Anna came out by rail to interview me this week. And she'll be back to escort me there in the fall if I prove suitable!"

Nils slapped her back in congratulations, earning a few frowns himself. "Wonderful! They've got an excellent girls' school there. Gotten any mystic visions yet? Maybe a message from Saint Chris telling you to be calmer and neater?"

"Oh, Nils!" Heidi implored. "I'm not that bad! Am I?"

"Your ribbons are undone again," he responded with an unrepentant grin. "You tell me."

"So it's not decided yet?" Borus asked, grasping hopefully at the "if" part about suitability. Heidi could be a pest sometimes, but he couldn't imagine three whole years without his careless cousin around. Crystal Valley was a long ways away – over an entire day's journey by rail. And she understood about the Heroes far better than Nils did. "She's still inspecting you and deciding, right, since she's still here?"

Heidi flapped a hand dismissively. "Well, yes, but this is the last step!"

"Oh." Borus fidgeted with a cuff. "Um. Are you going to get a Water Rune, like the nuns have?"

"Oh, no!" Heidi seemed aghast at his ignorance. "An actual Rune? Those aren't for _students_. They're only for the nuns. They say their vows and have a ceremony that links them to the True Water Rune that Saint Chris bore. It's sealed in Crystal Valley, right in their convent. That's how they get their visions from her." Heidi sighed. "I would _love_ to get a real vision from Saint Chris."

"Oh, it's easy to have a mystic vision, Heidi," Nils told her. "All you have to do is come up with a suitably surreal story and claim that the Goddess – or Saint Chris – bestowed it upon you."

"They're not mystic! They're real!"

Borus said nothing as the indignant Heidi continued to defend the authenticity of the Order's visions against Nils's derisions. Visions – with the aid of Runes or not - were superstitions from long ago, back when people really thought the Lizards ate their young. But it didn't feel right to make fun of Heidi today. Her visions from Saint Chris were too much like his sword from Borus Redrum.

The chapel was mostly empty now. Now that he'd stopped talking, Borus realized he could hear Sister Anna and the Priest, although he couldn't make out what they were saying.

Sister Anna's tone changed abruptly, becoming stern and condemning. Startled, Borus turned towards the voice, and he realized that the speaker was not the nun, but another woman. Borus had seen her at services before, always with a smile on her face and at least one child by her side.

She was not smiling now. Her voice rose, and Heidi and Nils broke off their exchange to listen.

"It's dishonor to the Saint, that's what it is," the woman snapped. "The boil of sin and impiety festers in our society, and it is your duty, Father, to lance it. But yet you stand back, forgiving blasphemy, defending the moral degeneration of society as progress!"

It was Sister Anna who responded, not the priest; her unintelligible words were calm but firm.

"Don't think you can fool me, Sister. That vile play is written by the nephew of the family you're staying with. You should be ashamed. The sister of your patron will not forgive such slander of her sister."

Borus snorted. "She's one of those religious nuts," he observed as the priest attempted to calm the irate stranger.

"She's talking about you, Nils. What does she mean by 'sister of your patron'?" Heidi whispered, eyes wide.

"Probably another one of the saints," Nils murmured, eyes narrowed. "I know her. Well, I've seen her. She stood outside every showing of _Blood Tells_ with pamphlets about Saint Arshtat and her judgment. That's probably who she meant."

"I respect your feelings, but I do not think Saint Chris would be particularly troubled by the play you describe. She was called worse things during her lifetime," the nun said firmly. At last they could hear her clearly. "I think you would do better to let the Saint look after her own reputation.

"I'm afraid I cannot stay to discuss this further; I have an appointment to keep. I do appreciate your informing me about the play. Father, thank you for the lovely service…"

"Why did she think Sister Anna would care about a Falenan saint, anyway?" Borus began to ask, but dropped off as the nun strode their way, a dark look on her face.

"Thank you for waiting," she said when she reached them. "Shall we go?" Her expression was once again composed, but her swift stride betrayed her remaining irritation.

"Certainly, Sister Anna. Nils, Borus, let's walk together?" Heidi was prim in front of the nun, as if to make up for her eavesdropping.

As they exited the building, Borus snuck a glance at Sister Anna's face, wondering how angry she was. They were out in the sun now, and her hood had slipped back again. but Sister Anna's grey eyes still seemed shaded.

----------

It was hot and muggy out that night, Borus discovered as he and Nils stepped out into the thick evening air. It grew cooler as they wound their way down the streets towards the docks.

Nils teased Borus all the way. "I know you didn't want to go to church again, but I should warn you. You might not like this play so much. I mean, there's swordfights, and honor and betrayal… but no one says 'have at ye!' Or 'by mine honor, and Saint Chris's will, I shall defeat thee, dogbreath!'" He punctuated the this last by taking a few lunges at Borus with an imaginary sword.

Borus scowled. Evening services were much longer and duller than the morning one, with prayers in old Harmonian and a lot of standing, and almost just as much of father nudging him and telling him not to slouch or scowl. Still, he hoped Heidi and Uncle Nathan showed up before he regretted his decision. "I didn't expect it to. I'm not stupid, you know. So long as Borus Redrum isn't murdering people again, I don't care. It's just a made-up play," he added, knowing this would annoy Nils.

"Made up? It's based on historical fact!" Nils sputtered. "I put _forever _into researching it! It's as close to the truth as I could make it! While you were running around with a stick pretending to be some idealized legendary hero, I was reading every historical record I could find!"

"He's not idealized! He was real, and he wasn't a murderer!" Borus retorted, stung. "He would never, ever, in a million years-"

"Borry! Nils!"

Nils turned to face the speaker. Their younger cousin skidded to a halt, wheezing. "We left… late….Had to run… to catch… up."

"Heidi! I knew it was you by your dulcet tones, ringing joyously through the dark of night!" Nils declaimed. "Is your father coming?"

Heidi shook he head, ribbons fluttering. "Mama… wasn't feeling.. well after dinner soSisterAnnasaidshe'dcome." She said it all in a rush, then had to gasp for breath again. "Papa didn't want to leave Mama in case something happened."

"Sister Anna?" Nils and Borus turned to look.

Heidi's chaperone had followed at a more sedate pace. She still wore robes, but the hood was pushed back, pulling from the shoulders. Now Borus could see that her brown hair was pulled back in a tight bun. A few loose wisps had pulled away and hung loose, framing her face.

"Hello, Nils, Borus," Sister Anna greeted them quietly, falling into step with them. Compared with Heidi's and Nils's enthusiastic greetings, hers might have been a whisper. "I'm sorry your uncle couldn't make it. I know I'm a poor replacement, but I'm looking forward to seeing your play's premiere."

"I'm… thank you," Nils said awkwardly.

The nun raised an eyebrow. "Surprised a woman of the cloth is attending a dockside theatre? Do you fear my delicate sensibilities will be shattered by the rough language of the longshoremen? Because you needn't. I've known soldiers."

"No, that's not it." Nils ran a hand through his hair. "This play… it's based on history. Which doesn't always exactly match… what gets said in Church."

"I'm well aware that today's service was not entirely accurate," Sister Anna replied smoothly. "And my order pursues historical record more than most."

"Yes, I know, I know… it just doesn't paint Saint Chris in the most positive light, Sister." After her defense of his work in the Chapel earlier that day, Borus wondered why Nils was so worried. Unless he was afraid she would wind up agreeing with the angry woman?

"Howso?" By her pleasant tone, Sister Anna might have been inquiring about the weather. She seemed determined to ignore Nils's discomfort and the exchange from earlier in the day.

Nils grimaced. "I…look. It's about the Massacre of Karaya, all right? She kills a child," he said uncomfortably. "It's historical. I'm sorry. I don't like it either, but it was there in the reports, written by her own hand, and confirmed by her vice-captain. And there's mention of it in the Fire Bringer saga. Well, scholars think 'Devil in White' referred to Saint Chris, because…"

Sister Anna's face softened. "It happened, Nils," she said gently. "I've known about that unfortunate chapter of history for quite some time. There's no reason for you to apologize. Especially not on Remembrance Day, when we honor the dead by remembering them. Remembering the truth of their lives, good and bad." She smiled crookedly. "Our Mother Superior thinks that remembering the bad is especially important on this day. She's been known to make students do penance if they say too many nice things about the Saints during the week. Something for you to keep in mind, Heidi, should you matriculate." She turned to Borus. "And I'm very sorry, Borus, but your brother's right about Borus Redrum's actions at Karaya. If it helps any, he spent his whole life repenting of it."

Borus tightened his jaw against an angry retort. Why did adults always insist on saying these things, as if he'd believe them just because they were older than he?

Sister Anna was watching him with sympathy on her face. "He was deeply ashamed, Borus. He never even told his Captain."

Borus remained silent. _I don't care,_ he thought savagely. _It's just lies. No reason some weird nun would know the truth._ He swallowed and blinked rapidly, feeling the prick of tears in his eyes. _No reason._

Heidi frowned. "So…if his Captain was Saint Chris, how do you know about it, Sister? If your order gets visions of memories from-"

"That my order is occasionally vouchsafed 'mystical visions' by our patron does not mean we're limited to the information she chooses to share with us," Sister Anna said with a touch of asperity, raising an eyebrow at Nils, who flushed. "I'm still perfectly capable of reading records and speaking with historians."

The group turned a corner and was abruptly greeted by the wind off the ocean. Wharf Street overlooked the sea, and the breeze was welcome on Borus's warm cheeks, for all it smelled of fish and garbage. A small crowd of people stood between them and the double-door – mostly young men and women Nils's age, dressed in the fashions popular to university students, but also a smattering of older adults, including a wrinkled old man with hardly any hair, whom Nils waved to.

"That's Professor Gawain. He's the historian I went to when I started focusing on historical projects. He specializes in Early Zexen history."

Sister Anna was blinking frantically. "A moment, please. I've something in my eye…"

"Here, Sister," Heidi proffered her handkerchief, which the nun blotted her tearing eye.

"Thank you. Ah, there it is." She returned the handkerchief to Heidi, but kept her eyes shut. She produced a small bottle from a pocket and tilted her head back, raising the bottle to her eyes.

"Medicine drops for her eyes," Heidi whispered, folding her handkerchief away in a pocket. "They're sensitive to the sea air. That's why the whites of her eyes look grey."

Sister Anna did not take long; a moment later and the bottle was in her pocket. She blinked a few times, then sighed. "That's better. Would you point out Professor Gawain for me again, Nils, now that I can see?"

Nils obliged. "He's considered a little odd, but he knows his subject."

"There's that lady from church." Heidi pointed to a cluster of frowning people that stood apart from the main body of the crowd. "What're they doing here? I thought she said this play was no good."

Nils's jaw tightened. "They're not here to watch it, that's for certain."

Heidi's question was answered a moment later when the small group began to loudly intone prayers, remonstrating the arrogant, the sinful, and the unfaithful. "Saint Arshtat will not forgive your slander of her sister! Repent or be burned by the Sun Rune! Depictions of saints are forbidden!"

"Oh, not more of those nuts," Borus grumbled. "What's their problem?"

"Apparently they haven't studied the reign of Saint Arshtat in much detail," Sister Anna murmured in response. "Or they'd know better than to call on her to punish petty offenses. Let's get your brother away from these people, Borus."

The nun placed a hand on Nils's shoulder, pushing him through the crowd and past the protesters. Borus took Nils's elbow and dragged. He followed, unresisting, his eyes still on the unpleasant group until they reached the canopy above the theatre's entrance.

Lanterns hung from the awning, lightning bulbs burning behind red glass. When they'd been here to see _The Six Flowers_, Nils had said they were the original lamps from the building, back when kerosene was new. The colored glass was meant to make them resemble the then-popular lamps that used Fire Rune Shards. Now they, and the rest of the building, were cheaply wired for Lightning Bulbs and other modern devices that could be powered by electric current. Still, it was an old, imposing building, the now-shattered trim and chipped molding hinting at a grander past.

"Well, this is it. Opening night," Nils said, looking down at him. Borus thought his brother looked a little pale despite the warm red light. "Let's go."

They pushed their way through the amiable crowd in the lobby, which ignored the young playwright and the children trailing behind him. Sister Anna, her hood up once more, drew a few curious eyes, but no lasting interest.

The doorkeeper recognized Nils, though, and waved them all in without tickets. Heidi kept up a stream of chatter as they looked for a block of four seats together. "Sister Anna, did you know this used to be a noble family's townhouse? A long time ago. They sold it to pay off gambling debts, and then the merchant's family that bought it sold it a few generations later."

"It was one of the Redrum residences, in fact. Much renovated now, of course. They've made apartments of the rooms upstairs," Nils told them, adding, "There's room up in the front row, over there."

"Really? I wonder if Borus Redrum ever stayed here? Maybe Saint Chris called on him," Heidi speculated as they took their seats. That would be really interesting, since all your plays about the Heroes and Saint Chris have been performed here. I wonder why a noble would live so close to the harbor, though?"

"It was a fashion, for a time, for the wealthy families in the shipping trade to have houses in view of the wharf, so they could display their merchant fleets to guests," Nils said, watching Sister Anna settle the skirts of her robe more comfortably. "It was meant to be a display of wealthy."

The exchange went on, mostly between Nils and Heidi, as the rest of the audience trickled in. Just when Borus was starting to feel restless, the house lights went down slowly, drawing the audience into darkness.

The stage was briefly dark. Then a torch flared into life, followed shortly by several candles resting on what looked to be a table.

The stage lights went up somewhat – enough to illuminate three seated figures. A stern-looking man and silver-haired woman sat at a folding table with the candles, looking over some papers. Another man, this one bearded, sat in the pool of light from the torch, running a whetstone along the length of his sword. Borus craned to see better the light reflecting off the naked steel; this was his namesake, Borus Redrum.

The woman turned a page, and a boy ran in, flushed and breathing heavily. "Milady Captain! Milords! The Lizards have attacked!"

"What?" the man at the table asked sharply.

"Madness!" Borus said, rising to his feet, sword in hand. "They need the ceasefire as much as we do! More!"

"Plainly we erred in our accounting." The woman's tone was casual, but she had risen to her feet and was belting on her sword. "Louis, squire, tell us what's known."

The boy was still a bit short of breath. "They've surrounded the 5th and 7th Companies. We're cut off from both. The Lizards and Karayans have three companies of foot, and another of archers."

"What of their commanders?" Borus demanded. "Lanchet and Mirrim?"

"Both dead," Louis said, hanging his head.

Borus sighed. "They were good men." His fist thumped against his chest in salute to the fallen, and the others followed his gesture.

"What of the 2nd Company?" the woman asked, checking that she could draw her sword easily. With her silver hair and rank, she was clearly meant to be Saint Chris.

"Holding their positions. The Grasslanders made sure to wait until 5th was well away before attacking."

"The cowards!" Borus sheathed his sword with an angry gliss of metal. "We've less than a hundred men, then."

"We'll never release the 5th and 7th, not with so few," Saint Chris said grimly.

The other man spoke up, equally grim. "A diversion is our only recourse. The 5th and 7th will be slaughtered before reinforcements can come from Brass Castle."

"Diversion?" Louis and Borus asked in chorus. In the background, the faint ring of metal striking metal could be heard, regular as in the Invocation at church.

"…Karaya Village," Saint Chris replied after a pause.

The man inclined his head. "Precisely."

"But all their warriors are here! None but civilians remain there. It'll be a massacre!" Borus objected.

"No massacre," Chris cut in before he'd finished speaking. The ring of metal had grown louder, irregular.

The other man – Salome or Percival, Borus thought – responded. "We'll set the buildings aflame. Thatch burns swiftly. Even if the villagers put it out on their own, the Karayan warriors will already be on their way."

"Leaving ample time for our people to break away. I see." Borus stroked his beard.

"But there are still women and children in the village! What if they fight us?" Louis asked.

"Then we defend ourselves," Saint Chris said grimly, as in the background the ring of metal was joined by human voices and the hollow sound of hoofbeats. The lights came down.

Borus Keeferson swallowed as the lights rose for the next scene, feeling wretched. Even if Nils hadn't told him, the scene and the perversion of the Heroes Invocation made it clear that something awful was going to happen.

As men and women dressed as Karayan warriors began to speak their lines, Borus snatched glances of the others. To his left Heidi regarded the unfolding drama with a rapt expression; beyond her, Sister Anna's eyes glittered in light from the stage, her expression unreadable.

Nils, sitting to his right, had closed his eyes, and his mouth moved silently along with the actors' lines.

The play progressed, and finally the knights approached Karaya. So close to the stage, Borus could see the backdrop of the village was studded with small lightning bulbs. Perhaps they'd light up to simulate the torching of the village?

His surmise was proved correct when one by one, the bulbs flickered to life. The stage grew brighter and brighter, then suddenly unbearably brighter still. Borus clamped his eyes shut as red streaks seared the insides of his eyelids.

Nils had gone overboard with special effects, Borus thought as a deafening, concussive boom shuddered though his bones, pressing him heavily against his seat and mashing him up against the left armrest. Dusty, smoky air filled his lungs. There was shouting, sounding distant after the explosive burst of sound.

"Borus! Borus, are you all right?"

That was not an actor onstage, calling for the famous hero; that was his brother. The heavy weight that had pressed his torso withdrew clumsily.

Borus opened his eyes as Nils drew back. Dust and ash swirled around in the dim light. Onstage, the backdrop smoldered, real flames eating away at the painted village. Fire ate away the main doors in the rear of the theatre. All around the brightness of flame flickered on woodwork. Real flame, dull red and angry, not the clear white light of bulbs.

"What happened?" he asked, dazed. His left arm ached.

"An explosion. Runic, I think. Excuse me." Wincing, Nils stood up and turned to face the rest of the audience. "Everyone! Remain calm!" he shouted, above the general din of distress. Please help anyone who is injured! Those of you near the walls, check the exits-"

As Nils (soon joined by the director) tried to restore order, Borus looked around. Onstage, two of the actors were dragged an unconscious "Karayan" away from the fire; the woman playing Saint Chris slapped frantically at the flames licking his leg. Nearby, Heidi was darting fearful glances all around, her hair mussed but otherwise looking unharmed. Sister Anna seemed to be ignoring everyone around her; her gloved hands were clasped tightly in front of her, and her eyes were closed.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, knowing the answer and furious.

"I'm praying," she told him shortly, not opening her eyes. "Let me concentrate."

He smacked the armrest of his seat with a fist, his temper rising up to choke him. Someone had blown up the theatre, people needed _help_, they all needed to _get out_, and she was sitting there doing nothing. "Of all the waste of-"

"Borus, don't." Heidi was pale. "Let her. She knows what's going on - she pushed me to the floor just before the explosion happened."

The nun was swearing softly now. "Damn you, Sasarai, you said I could break through if I needed to." Beads of sweat dribbled down her forehead as Borus watched, although when he raised a hand to it, his own forehead was damp as well.

There was a flicker of blue from her clasped hands, then the glow spread, rising upwards in the wavery, indistinct outline of a Rune. Borus felt coolness wash across his face and his bruised arm; a moment later the nun sighed in relief.

"There." She exhaled. "That should hold things."

Little cries of surprise echoed through the crowd; before his eyes, the small, scattered fires died. Onstage, the unconscious actor sat up, although the backdrop continued to burn.

"What was that?" Heidi breathed, awestruck. "A miracle?"

"If you like," Sister Anna said shortly. "I couldn't put out the rest of the fires – they're electrical. We still need to get out of here."

Nils and the director tore down an unsinged curtain along the wall, revealing a door. Nils tried the knob while the director made a makeshift torch from a splintered chair and shreds of the curtain.

"Not hot," Nils said. The door swung outward with a creak into a dark hall beyond.

"It should be safe this way," the director called, her voice carrying over the somewhat calmer crowd. "Don't run, don't push! We've got enough time, so go carefully!"

Her words set off a rush for the new door, although there was surprisingly little pushing or panic as everyone jostled to get closer. The 'miracle' – or whatever it had been from Sister Anna's Water Rune – had done more to calm the crowd than anything Nils and the director had said. It seemed unreal, distant; the crowd at the door seemed to Borus to move as though wading though water.

The actors were calling to their backstage fellows across the flames. "We've a way out this way. Can you make it out back?"

Apparently the answer was affirmative, because they hastened to join the crowd pushing for the door, discarding bits of costume armor and weaponry on the way.

The director had disappeared, leading the way through the darkness with the now-burning torch. Nils stood at the door, calling instructions and imploring people to be quick but careful.

Borus found himself amongst the last ones at the door. Just in front of him, Sister Anna paused at the threshold, glancing back at the stage, where Karaya burned in effigy.

Then, a grim set to her jaw, she stepped forward. Nils gave him a shove, and he found himself in a dark hallway, the only light before him a dim blue glow from Sister Anna's Rune.

The air was stale in the corridor, much less smoky than the theatre had been. He kept his eyes fixed on the blue glow as they hurried – although it felt like sleepwalking- down the dark, narrow hall. He would have missed the answering blue flicker from the wall if he had not stumbled slightly, tripping up against someone else's ankles.

"Ouch," Heidi exclaimed, but Borus stopped, reaching down towards the blue spark, struck by the sudden feeling that it was terribly important.

His hand met cool, rough wood, but only for a moment. The panel under his fingers slid slowly away, revealing a small niche, barely illuminated by the faint blue glow. There was something in there, small and rectangular.

His hand closed around a smooth metal box, and the light winked out.

He stood, looking around, but all he could see was a reddish glow from the way he'd come. The glow from Sister Anna's rune had vanished.

----------

"Borus, we made it," was the first thing Nils said as he stepped from the smoky, stuffy corridor into the relatively cool night air.

Men and women in uniforms of the Fire Watch surrounded the building, some of them actively fighting the flames, others trying to keep the evacuees and gawking neighbors a safe distance away.

One man went from coughing, sooty evacuee to the next, his right hand glowing as he placed it on their chests. Their coughing would ease, and he would go on to the next victim of smoke inhalation.

Borus did not answer, but Heidi did. "Nils, where did Borus go? I don't see him."

Frantically, Nils searched the crowd for his fair-haired brother while the icy hand of awful reality clamped around his heart. "He's not here! _He's not here!_"

"I thought I heard him stumble…" Heidi whispered. "Oh, no. He must've fallen. He's still inside!"

"Borus!" Nils spun around to run back to the small, shabby door they'd exited by, but a strong hand gripped his arm, stopping him.

"I'll go."

Nils tried to shake off the nun's hand. "He's my brother!"

Sister Anna's eyes flashed in the flickering light of the burning building. "No. I'll not be telling your parents I let you both die. Stay here." Her tone was one of command.

"But-" he tried to pull away.

A member of the Watch caught up to them, and Sister Anna let go. Nils found himself struggling in the iron grip of a policeman nearly half a foot taller than he.

"It's not safe to go back into the building!" the man said as Nils struggled. "We've got a team inside – they'll find your brother."

Trembling, only half-hearing, Nils let the man lead him away from the building again. He glanced back, and saw a flash of blue and silver disappear into the darkness.

"You! Stop! It's not safe!" his captor bellowed, too late, at the vanished figure of Sister Anna. "Damn, has everyone run mad tonight?"

Nils was unceremoniously deposited on a bench, where he sat, shaking and staring at his sooty hands._ Borus… He's still… he's…_he thought, not caring if he spoke aloud and unable to finish the sentences even in his own mind.

A smaller hand clasped one of his. "It'll be okay, Nils," Heidi said, although her voice quavered. "He'll be okay, I'm sure of it. Did you see what her Rune became, back inside? Sister Anna's being guided by Saint Chris."

-----------

The smoke was growing thicker, and Borus could no longer even discern which direction he'd come from. He tried to continue along the passage, one hand on the wall, the other hugging the metal box to his chest. Then he'd trip over some unknown obstacle and his hand would slide away, and he'd be surrounded by drowning darkness until his tiny, hesitant steps brought him to bump his nose or stub his fingers against the smooth wooden panels of the wall.

The smoke made his eyes sting, and there was nothing to see, so he closed his eyes. Coughing, he stumbled forward, lost his way, found it again, and stumbled once more… only to smack into something much softer than the wall.

"There you are! Can you walk?"

Borus opened his eyes to a blue glow and the relieved eyes of Sister Anna. She held a sleeve over the rest of her face. He tried to answer, but a fit of coughing prevented him, and he had to fight to even nod.

Her hand slapped against his chest, and the blue glow rose. His lungs felt much better, and her hand withdrew.

"Thanks," he said weakly, and heard a tearing sound. A damp cloth slapped against his face.

"Hold this over your mouth and nose," the nun ordered him, her voice muffled behind her own cloth. "We're getting out of here."

With just the faint light from her Rune, it was much easier to avoid tripping over the assorted props and rolls of canvas that were strewn about the corridor. Less than a minute later they were outside. Borus peeled the cloth away from his face just in time; Nils pushed past the Watch and had him clapped into a strangling embrace that forced the air out of his lungs.

"Thank goodness," Nils kept saying, over and over. Heidi seemed to be crying and laughing at the same time, and his parents (how long had it been since the explosion, if they'd made it all the way from the chapel by now?) were fussing and smothering. His father was pumping Sister Anna's hand and thanking her repeatedly; the nun looked a little embarrassed.

A Watchwoman shooed them further away from the building towards another, into a pool of white light.

Finally he was given a chance to explain himself. "I saw a light," he said, to general confusion, and rubbed his eyes. They still stung, although they'd finally stopped tearing. "A blue light, like Sister Anna's Rune… so I reached for it. There was a door, a hidden panel.. .and this was inside." He proffered the metal box. "Then the light vanished and I couldn't find my way out in the darkness."

Sister Anna, heroine of the hour, had moved a little ways away from the Keefersons during the reunion, except for the inescapable handshake. Now she stepped forwards and took the box from his unresisting hands.

"Borus Dirk Keeferson, what were you thinking?" his mother demanded. "When there's a fire, you get out right away. You know better than to stop for things."

"I just… wanted to know what it was," he responded, lamely. He didn't know how to explain the feeling that had struck him in the corridor, that it was significant somehow. "I…"

"Well, what's in it?" Heidi demanded, back in top form now that disaster was well averted.

Sister Anna's eyes were red from smoke irritation, her cheeks damp and streaked with grey. But she smiled and opened the box. "Old papers," she said, displaying them, and Heidi sighed in disappointment.

"You were expecting jewels, weren't you?" Nils said teasingly, smiling through the soot on his face.

"Well, Borry said it was in a secret panel," she retorted. "Why go to that sort of bother, hiding it away from everyone so long, if it's just papers?"

"It's not just papers," Mrs. Keeferson said, pulling one gently from the box. "They're letters, see? This one's… "

"What is it, Aunt Belle?" Heidi prompted, when Borus's mother trailed off.

"This one's addressed to Chris Lightfellow," she said slowly, replacing it reverently in the box. She fished out another. "This one, too… they all seem to be. The seals aren't broken, either."

"So it _is_ treasure," Nils breathed. "Letters to Saint Chris."

"Letters to Chris Lightfellow before she was a saint," their father said quietly. "To the real person, Nils, not the legend."

"And infinitely more precious because of that," Nils responded, reaching out a trembling hand to flip through them. "One from Percival Fraulein… Salome Harras… Roland… there are a number here, from all of the Heroes. The past isn't so dead, if they're still speaking unheard words. What we could learn from these…"

"How did they get there? Oh, wait, the house belonged to the Redrums…" Heidi nodded firmly. "I bet Borus Redrum put them there! And meant for Saint Chris to find them somehow, only she never did."

"These… they should go to your Order, shouldn't they." Belle Keeferson looked questioningly at Sister Anna, who nodded apologetically. "Here, then. Take them. You rescued our son."

Borus got the idea that she would've demurred and refused all thanks, except for the box. "Thank you." Sister Anna took the box and cradled it in her arms. "We had no idea there was anything like this." She turned to Borus and offered him a tentative smile, raising her eyes to his. "If Heidi's right, and Borus Redrum placed them there, then it seems appropriate that you were the one to find them."

There was something strange about her eyes, Borus thought, blinking. It wasn't just the expression – although she seemed happy and about to cry at the same time, as Heidi had been doing copiously not long before. Her muddy brown hair had come loose from its tight bun and was flaked with white ash. Her eyes had lost the grey, shaded look they'd had earlier in the day. Her irises, too, were brighter. Their gray seemed bluer, almost purple under the white light of the lightning bulbs.

Borus blinked in sudden, shocked recognition, and her gaze slid past him, back at the theatre. "They seem to have found more people inside, and the Fire Watch healer has to be exhausted from treating smoke inhalation. I would like to offer what aid I can, while this blessing lasts." She glanced down at her right hand ruefully. "Would you please take Heidi home for me?"

Dirk and Belle Keeferson were more than willing, so Sister Anna slipped away from their group, back towards the theatre. One hand in Heidi's inescapable grip and the other in his father's, Borus barely managed a backwards glance. Already there was a blue glow, a triple of concentric circles rising in the air as the nun turned her magic towards healing once more.

-----------

Borus slept in late the next morning, and once he woke his parents were inclined to fuss, his mother feeding him and his brother, and his father checking both their lungs again and again.

There was an interlude around noon, when a Watchman came to ask Nils questions. Had there been any threats made before the play, could he describe the protesters, had they ever done anything more than protest the performance of a play.

"Did you know one of them had a Lightning Rune?" the watchman asked towards the end of the questioning.

Nils shook his head. "Is that what happened? They used that to cause the fires and explosion? I know the building's wires aren't very good…"

The watchman nodded. "Most of them fled, but we found one of them trapped in the lobby. After she recovered, she claimed the plan had only been to blow out the lights, not start fires and cause an explosion. Investigations are continuing."

The watchmen left shortly afterwards, and Nils set off to meet with the director and cast of the play. This left Borus alone to his parents' attentions, which quickly became smothering. He finally escaped under the pretext of going to Heidi's house to thank Sister Anna.

It wasn't _exactly_ a lie, he decided. He'd stop by later. But Heidi would fuss, and her parents would try to spoil him after his 'brush with death', and he'd had enough of that. Instead he took the route that would lead him to the Chapel and its attached graveyard.

The passing of Remembrance Day had taken the crowds with it. The few visitors and pilgrims didn't so much as glance his way; busy making their own offerings at the graves of ancestors or the Heroes.

Even from a distance, Borus could see flowers, sticks of incense, candles, and other trinkets piled in front of the headstones of Saint Chris and the Heroes; the path leading to them was a litter of paper prayers and matches, along with other, less sacred detritus.

The church bell tolled out noon as the last group of visitors straggled past him, leaving a solitary woman in blue standing in front of the monuments. She'd just finished placing a bouquet of mixed zinnias on the nearest grave.

She turned at the sound of his footsteps. "Hello, Borus. I thought I might meet you here."

Borus looked up at her face. Her eyes were shaded-looking and grey again, but there was a question in them.

He swallowed. "Hello, er.. your holiness-"

"Just Chris will do." Her stance relaxed. "Lady Chris, if an honorific makes you more comfortable, although technically the nobility were divested of titles about fifty years ago. 

"I thought you might have figured it out last night. I rather hoped you had."


End file.
